Illusions
by holding-out
Summary: everyone has their secrets. no one is as simple as they seem because the mind is far too complex for that. the gundam pilot's wonderings--is more serious than i gave it credit for. please r/r!
1. Convictions and Revelations

Illusions  
  
By the infamous StarChild  
  
A fanfic-about a year after the war-the various Gundam pilots thoughts on everything in general-warning: changes PoV several times. Please read; just give it a chance for my sake-and review so I know how to make it better than it is.  
  
(This is a Gundam Wing fanfic from one of the pilot's point of view. If you read it, you'll know which)  
  
Disclaimer: All right, everyone knows I don't own these characters or their clothes or their hair or their toenails or anything else about them. I'm not totally sure who does and to be frank I'm not interested enough to find out. So lets just say that whoever owns them are lucky bastards and continue on with the reason we're all here: the fic.  
  
Now, just to warn everyone, let me say that I have not had much success with fanfics in the past. People just don't seem to care for them. But I like them, and I like the idea that somewhere in that big wide world of ours, someone, however delusioned they may be, likes my writing and actually cares what it says.  
  
If you're out there, please read and review. Just to let me know I'm not talking to myself.  
  
  
  
Chapter One: Convictions and Revelations  
  
I watch the world with eyes of stone. I see the pain we eased and the pain we caused, in the name of freedom and justice. We fought proudly, defiantly, with our blades of light and fire, and burning shrapnel that pierced our enemy's armor and transformed them into smoking balls of scrap- metal, like stars, even in the coldness of space. Proudly I say, because, though our words are sometimes mild or our eyes sometimes gentle, there is a shrieking ferocity in all five of us, and others who we have fought with and against throughout the war, that is not abated now, when peace threatens to subdue some-to subdue those whose minds were never meant to face the harsher aspects of battle. Indeed, I almost pity Quatre. I see what he was before, in every movement, however slight-I see what he was meant to be-but that is not why I sympathize. (Sympathize? It's the wrong word. I don't sympathize. I wouldn't know how. But I know no other.) I- feel sorrow-for him, because I see, he sees it too. He knows.  
  
He knows.  
  
It's strange. Some of us have changed, and some have not. Duo, I'm sure will never change, however exasperating that thought is sometimes. He has retained his humor and his often carefree attitude despite the horrors we've experienced. Wufei-I am not sure. He was angry. I remember that. He was helpless once and it broke his mind-that's how I see it. He wasn't crazy; I don't mean that. He was frantic, in a fiery way, and he put that energy and that passion into the controls of Shen Long and with it destroyed thousands of mobile suits and dolls, and helped bring down Oz. I wish I could be angry like he was then-I know it's a strange thing to wish- because, with his anger he questioned what he'd been told, what he'd been taught never to doubt. I remember when he questioned me.  
  
I was in Wing, going to Earth, to stop Mariemaia and Dekim Barton from destroying the peace when I found him there, waiting for me. He said he wouldn't let me go to Earth. He demanded my convictions-he should have known better-he demanded a response beyond what I wanted to give, to anyone. I battled him as we broke through the atmosphere, as I felt the friction pulling at my Gundams limbs and causing sweat to prickle on my back and thighs. I remembered then-as I had for years, as I will until that time when my luck-if you believe in luck-finally runs out. I remembered the little girl. She wore a white dress and had a sweet, young voice. She gave me a flower.  
  
I killed her. I didn't mean to. I never meant that to happen.  
  
But I killed her and I will stay in my patient hell for that forever, because I know I deserve it. I wont ask forgiveness for that, because I don't deserve it, because I don't want it-besides, who would I ask? A priest? I'm not religious. A god? Never. I'd rather suffer.  
  
So I asked him-asked Wufei, the most angry of us all-asked him for what? I asked him how many times I would have to watch her and her little dog die- but mostly I asked for acknowledgment.  
  
He never understood me, and I don't complain. He resented me I think- perhaps he thought I never suffered, because I'm not emotional, because I don't have energy-mental energy? -for those things I don't understand. And don't trust. Perhaps he thought that I didn't care, and I wish I didn't, that the world is not drawn in black and white, that though we fought for freedom, thousands of those we fought for will never experience a time of peace-and it's our fault.  
  
My fault.  
  
But I gave him that. I gave him proof that I knew my sins and by doing so, did I make them real? But they were always real. I acknowledged my simplicity-a simplicity that I thought I'd killed off years ago-I acknowledged my weakness and I gave him a hold, a crack. I gave him a purchase on me and now we're connected-in a strange, distant sort of way.  
  
I despaired then, as I do sometimes when no one's there to see. I was tired as I'd never been tired before. I wanted an answer that he couldn't give and I was waiting for it when I finally hit the water, when I sank. I considered staying there, waiting for-what? To drown? Usually I wouldn't be so foolish. Of course you can't drown in a Gundam; if water could get in, just think how effective it would be in space, where a single hole can create a vacuum-can kill a pilot.  
  
I wish I'd kept Zero. Not to use it, no. For the Zero system. You see, the Zero system can answer questions, depending on the pilot's strengths and weaknesses, it assesses possible outcomes of events. And I want to know, how will the future turn out? Will there be another war? Where are the Doctors?  
  
Will we ever be happy?  
  
Will I ever be able to get the screaming out of my head?  
  
What...?  
  
I miss it. I miss the shine of the Gundanium; I miss the buttons and gears and I miss the rush I got every time I felt the engines push me off the ground. I miss the stars.  
  
I would never take it back-I know the consequences. I'm like an alcoholic, I hate what I did; I'll remember it in my nightmares for the rest of my life-but I miss feeling that-thing-like loneliness, that fills your chest and lifts you away with the glory of being a part of something and of fighting for-what? After the colonies abandoned us, we fought for ourselves, and I've never seen the point in that. It's a dead ache in my chest now, a regret for a time that I hated. But I'll never again see the stars so clear.  
  
He never told the others, not that I know of anyway, but he's warmer to me now-it's that connection that did it. I don't expect him to understand me but perhaps..  
  
The others see him. He's nicer now, less harsh now that the war's over. He's resolved something, come to terms with it. He smiles more now and I'm happy for him. Honestly happy. The others see him, they see him and me talking-when he smiles-and they wonder what happened while they waited for us. I like him-I actually like Wufei-I like all of them. And maybe that's what shocks me most.  
  
I never wanted friends before; they were a risk that I didn't need to take; they were a cord that tied me to a race that I wasn't sure I was ever a part of. I'd see others, groups of kids hanging out; they seemed happy, sure, but I-being the natural spy-would hear those so-called friends when they stabbed them in the back. They were always so shocked too, like they didn't expect it at all, like they had no way of knowing what was going on in the world around them. I'd shake my head, subconsciously; they should have known better.  
  
And now?  
  
That's the strangest thing. Perhaps it's better this way. We didn't start out as friends. We started out as five total opposites. They were like aliens to me-and annoying aliens, that got in the way of my orders. I didn't like them; I wanted to be left alone; I wanted to have freedom in my movements, to accomplish my missions without interference or help. But I was forced to work with them, forced in my association, to respect them. The thing is, I was never told to like them. I was told to put up with them, like I put up with everything. In fact, I don't think I was supposed to like them. I was supposed to work with them without making any connections, without becoming involved with them in any way but the one, and that one was absolutely unavoidable when fighting together.  
  
But the Doctors, they outdid themselves this time. Somehow they thought that after fighting and talking and bleeding together, after experiencing a whole war, after fighting the same enemies and for the same people-they thought we'd be what?-acquaintances? Allies? Well, yes, but that's not all.  
  
I feel something for them, but what? It's respect, but not. It's admiration, but not as though they're above me. Is it love? I don't go for that cliché. What would I know of that? It's distant. It's this: if I never spoke to them again I'd be fine-my heart would not break, I would not die a poetic death out of loneliness-but I would remember every word they said, and every expression that ever touched their faces. And then one day, when war breaks out on a distant colony I'd call them (on a secure line)-or maybe I'd e-mail them, it doesn't matter which-and they'd come. We'd bleed together again. We'd accomplish more feats that would set Lady Une-whichever personality she happens to be using at the time-to tearing her hair. And if they called me, I would bleed for them. Like I'd bleed for Relena (I'm her guard now. I watch out for her from the shadows.) or like I ever bled for the colonies.  
  
But the difference is, Relena and the colonies-they know. I was trained to protect the colonies-and I will if they ever need protection again-and I'm paid to protect Relena-although I'd do it without pay, because it's an obligation. They know I'm there for them, though I stay in the shadows.  
  
But the others don't know. They don't know that they have my-what? Devotion. Loyalty. I hate words. They're so shallow. They cannot describe what needs most to be said, or at least understood. But they don't know, which makes me smile-I smile more now, but it's slight, almost shy if you can believe that-because I know, I'm proud as I've always been proud, or confident, or whatever word you think works best, that my life, which I valued so little before, will be given in a heartbeat to one of the four assassins that I call my Friends (although only in my head). We all have our secrets: I'm not sure who said that, was it Trowa? Well, this is mine.  
  
It's a game, a secret; I'm good at keeping secrets-I'm a Gundam pilot after all. I will continue to be cold, to be distant, to pretend that I'm annoyed by Duo's constant chatter and unaffected by Quatre's innocence, and all the while I will be smiling like a cat (in my head) because I know something they don't know, something they will never guess. Perhaps it's immature of me to think of this as a game, but none-the-less it's a game I intend to win.  
  
  
  
So, there you have it. If you actually read this, please r & r because otherwise I have no way of knowing. (Again, I have a bad history of that) I'd beg but it goes against my pride. Anyway, I really hope you like it, and I'll try to write another chapter soon. Oh yes, if you have a suggestion, I'd be more than thrilled to have it.  
  
-------------------------------------------------------------------------- Sincerely, ---------------------  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---The infamous StarChild 


	2. Against the Current

Illusions  
  
By the infamous StarChild  
  
Warning: I will likely be changing point of view multiple times in this story. It's your job to try to guess who is talking. It's a game.  
  
Disclaimer: All right, everyone knows I don't own these characters or their clothes or their hair or their toenails or anything else about them. I'm not totally sure who does and to be frank I'm not interested enough to find out. So lets just say that whoever owns them are lucky bastards and continue on with the reason we're all here: the fic.  
  
If you're out there, you poor mislead person who's reading my fic, please review all right? Because otherwise I honestly have no idea what I'm doing.  
  
  
  
Chapter Two: Against the Current  
  
Have you ever hit rock bottom? I have. Don't ask. You don't need to. I met a guy once who said that I couldn't have possibly hit rock bottom because I'd never been in love. He was right about that; I never have been in love. But I've been there; in the dark, in the night-where shadows like phantoms creep around you and there is no one there to hear your silence. Or your shrieks. It's loneliness mostly that does it. Have you ever been alone in a strange place? I have. Have you ever been ignored by everyone? Have you ever found yourself just talking, speaking into silence? I have. No one cared. I'd laugh, because I knew that they didn't matter, although I bled so freely for them. Because I was tired, I laughed. And I cried. And then I realized that they were the same thing.  
  
There's a point, between life and death, before you finally acknowledge that you're alone. That's the point where you cry, the point where I bit my lips until they bled, trying not to give in. It's like swimming against the current. You fight it, deny it, reject it-you struggle with all your energy, with your nails, with your teeth, with everything you have. And then it sweeps you away and you realize that, yes, you're alone. No one cares. You can't cover it up although you try. You tell yourself, "I'm an individual", "I don't need them", "I am a loner", but the truth is, you're not. You're human and you're alone and that's where it ends, that's when you stop feeling the cold and stop defending yourself. You just don't care.  
  
I don't really remember the guy who told me that I was wrong. I think he was drunk, and of course I know why. His reasoning explained that pretty well. His girlfriend probably ditched him-and he's telling me that I'd never suffered-for another man. Big deal. Try all of humanity, buddy and then tell me I'd never suffered.  
  
  
  
Of course there were always the doctors, but they're creepy. They're nice enough for old, freaky-looking mad scientists, and they really do try to act-well-nice, but still, I was never able to escape the feeling that I was a pawn, or-I don't know-like a rat in a maze. They'd watch, see what I'd do, take notes, and make decisions about my life without telling me what they were. I'd avoid them if I were you. I never really had much to do with the other's doctors, although I think Heero was closer to his than the rest of us were.  
  
Since that day, nearly a year ago now, we all have changed, and I think Heero has the most. He's still standoffish, but in a different way now. He seems, well, lonely-strange as that may seem-different. I can understand why of course; he nearly died that day, and in the weeks following. It's pretty funny. All the rest of us (except maybe Quatre) were a little reluctant to destroy our Gundams. Understand, I was glad to do it. The moment I pushed that button, I was happier than I'd been in years. It was a turning point. It meant that the war was really over; the nightmare was over-for us. We'd finally get the chance to be normal, to be happy-if that's possible. It meant that now, even if there was another war, no one would come to us, because we were Gundam pilots without Gundams. The technology of the Gundams and Mobile Suits and Dolls has been destroyed. They couldn't build another one now if they wanted to-not without the doctors-and us. And we're too used to expecting death to really care much for threats. I'd like to see someone try to threaten Wufei-or Trowa-or Heero. They could be Kung fuued to death, have their neck broken in a snap, or be shot many times in the head. I'd laugh.  
  
Anyway, all of us were a little reluctant to destroy these things-these things had become our lives over the last two years-and yet Heero, the most- how do I say?-dependant of us went and blew his up without a signal, without even anything to say that it would help. I shouldn't be surprised. He's done it how many times before? And himself along with it.  
  
But I think the last time was one too many. He's so different. After the whole Mariemaia incident, which we all know about from Relena, and various people who were there, he collapsed. It was the internal bleeding mostly, and exhaustion, and likely shock. He was in the hospital for nearly two months recovering and none of us had any idea if he'd pull through. Relena was frantic-understandably; we all know that there's something going on there and I think Heero likes her too. But what really struck me as unusual was Wufei's behavior.  
  
You see, for a long time, I was under the impression that Wufei didn't particularly like Heero-which didn't fit in my mind. They were both very much into duty-I, myself have never liked the concept overly much-and yet there they were, not even speaking except when necessary. But when Heero didn't recover-when he was actually worsening-after the second week in the hospital, Wufei was even more tense than usual, biting his lips, pacing in the lobby. We tried to convince him-unable to convince ourselves-that Heero would be all right and recover in a week, but it only made him angry- but everything makes him angry-and he-I think he was swearing at us in Chinese but I couldn't understand any of it. Oh well, probably better that way.  
  
(flashback)  
  
"Why won't he wake up? He's a soldier! He should be able to handle a little blood loss!" Wufei's arms were tense, making jerky, violent gestures in the sterilized lobby.  
  
"Please, Wufei. It'll be all right. The doctors say so." Quatre's voice held optimism, and trust in the words of the good doctors, but his aquamarine eyes were clouded.  
  
"The doctors are wrong! What do they know anyway? They should be trying harder. If they were doing their jobs, he would have been out of here a week ago!"  
  
"He's had a major injury. It's unreasonable to expect an instant recovery this time-those of the past have made this difficult enough. We've all been under a lot of stress lately, but it's over now. We'll finally have the chance to live naturally, the way we were meant to. Just be patient."  
  
"Patient! Augh!" I expected him to snap in half when he stomped his heel into the floor. His hands were fists, his shoulders tense, his neck curved, his feet spread apart, but that was only for an instant and then he turned on his heel and left the hospital. We didn't see him for days and when he came back he was back to normal and it was like the whole thing never happened. (Bizarre)  
  
Anyway, when Heero finally woke up, when he was finally able to walk and run and threaten just as he always had (And man, was that a relief when he first shoved his gun in my face. I'm secure enough in my manhood to admit I was scared. Hey, he's my buddy!), although he seemed healthy enough, it was just different. Not necessarily in a bad way, just different. Aimless.  
  
I see him sometimes, wandering around, like he's looking for something. He frowns, slightly, like something is bothering him but when I ask him, he just looks at me like he always has, like I'm in the way. It's oddly comforting actually. I was always a little worried for him, although I'd never tell him that, and even more so now. He just looks so-lost-half the time. It's not right. Heero has missions; Heero has a purpose.  
  
But what is that purpose now?  
  
Is it normal to obsess about people this way? Good question. It's not really any of my business. Heero would probably shoot me if he knew I was watching him so closely or that I was wasting valuable time imagining him as a tragic hero-Heero-funny.  
  
As for me, I've changed too. Can't forget that. For a long time I was living just because I wanted to and because I wasn't going to let anyone take that life that was mine by right. An interesting battle; defending something you don't really value anyway.  
  
But that's the change. I value it now. I work with Hilde in the scrapyard, destroying the parts of any suits or dolls that haven't been incinerated yet. It's fun, dirty work and I enjoy it. Every sheet of worthless scrap-metal that we can recycle and find a productive use for is like a vow-if you know what I mean. It's one more symbol of the evil of war that no one-ever-will have to worry about again.  
  
As for the others, they've all gone their ways, although we keep in touch. We get together about twice a month, which I don't really think is enough- but they all have very busy schedules. Quatre's taken over his father's business, Wufei is busy at Preventer Headquarters, Trowa is traveling with the circus, and of course Heero has his hands full protecting Relena and being about as social as a nuclear bomb-but hey, you gotta love'em!  
  
I was always alone, surrounded by people. I'd have a great time in the day, playing, joking, but at night I'd wonder why I felt so empty. No one ever knew of course, I was that good. But then I met the other pilots, and you know what? I realized, hey, they're all as messed up as I am. But different. They needed me, and I liked that. They would never say it; probably never think it either, heck, they don't even know! For all that they're great guys, they have a tendency to swallow things up-all the blood, the pain, the anger-it became a part of them and so they snapped, one by one under the stress of it all. And I liked it. I liked being the only one that could cheer them up, that could make them smile, that could make life a little brighter for them.  
  
Maybe it was selfish of me, to think of their pain that way, but then one day I realized that I didn't feel empty anymore. I'd been making people laugh all my life-that's just the way I am-but now it wasn't just laughter I was getting, it was something else. I had become-corny as it sounds-a part of some strange and selective society that I knew none of those other jokers out there-the ones that had never felt any pain-would ever get a chance to be a part of; they'd have been shot if they'd tried. At times I still felt lonely, but I knew I wasn't the only one-we had all lost something beyond value to get us here. We were all scarred-and scared. This was not the life we were promised, not the life that we should be part of. So we fixed it.  
  
I'm proud of that.  
  
There I was, how many years ago?-living on the streets, stealing to live. I had no idea that I'd be here today, wasn't even guaranteed that I'd be alive to get this old. It's amazing! I started out as just another kid, living day to day, and look at me now! I have become one of the most influential people in the history of the colonies. I am a Gundam pilot. Hell-despite all I went through to get here, to stay alive, et cetera, I wouldn't change a thing. Nope, not a thing.  
  
  
  
And that's the end of my second chapter. I like writing this way; it's like a diary except not about me. Well, I hope you've enjoyed it, and I hope you've read it. If you have done that, then just do one more little thing for me. Review. No one ever does and it's a bit of a downer. So just do me that little favor and I will write back and we can be pen pals..  
  
On second hand, scratch that. Just review would be fine.  
  
-----------------------------------------------------------all thanks to my fine, attentive audience, ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------StarChild 


End file.
